Sykes started to speak, but Poppy gave her head a single shake. “Last night was the first time I’ve been to Ward’s home. I don’t know his personal habits.”
“You were both there?” Nat said, disposing of more unwanted pieces of crawfish. “You and Sykes. Did you leave together.”
“Almost,” Sykes said, flinching inwardly at his own thin attempt to cover for Poppy.
“Sykes left before I did,” Poppy said. “I wasn’t much later.”
“Does that mean Ward took you home?”
“No. It means I walked, on my own. It wasn’t that late and it isn’t far.”
“That’s not a good idea, Poppy, and you know it,” Nat said.
“No, it damn well is not,” Sykes said. “I can’t believe Bienville let you do that.”
“He didn’t know. He was busy with all those people when I slipped out.”
“Right after he just about told them all that he wanted you at his side, as his wife?” Sykes said, furious.
Poppy scowled at him. “He didn’t mean it that way,” she said. “Drop it.”
“Ward asked you to marry him?” Nat said as if he were asking about the weather. “But you’ve never even been inside his home—not until last night?”
“He didn’t ask me to marry him,” Poppy said.
Sykes was angry but he took pity on her. “He implied that he wished she was interested in him. A lot of champagne had gone in. You know how those things go.”
“I hope we’ll learn something useful when we find out what killed Sonia,” Nat said.
Sykes gave himself a moment to switch topics.
“A blow to the head,” Poppy said. “Isn’t that what they said?”
Nat looked away. “I want to know
exactly
what killed her.”
Poppy shot to her feet. “I’m going down to ask to see Ward. I don’t like the sound of any of this.”
The slightly smug expression on Nat’s face puzzled Sykes. “Let’s wait,” he said to Poppy.
Then Sykes got it. Nat wanted to get a definite reaction out of Poppy, something to show him how she felt about Ward, and he had it.
“No,” Poppy said. “I’m going down there to wait and take him home. He’s being ganged up on because…well, probably because of jealousy of some sort. Or he’s being framed by people who don’t want him to succeed.”
Poppy signaled to Liam that she was going out and set off for the door.
Ready to go after her, Sykes wiped his hands on a napkin.
“They’re just friends?” Nat said. “This only gets more interesting.”
Sykes made certain he chose his moment well, then took pleasure in Nat’s expression when he turned back from watching Poppy leave to find no sign of Sykes—or none that Nat was able to see.
A
t first Poppy didn’t think Ward was going to answer his phone. It rang and rang and she prepared to click off.
“Yes?”
She heard his voice just in time and slammed her own cell phone back to her ear. “Ward? Where are you? I went to the police and they said you just left.”
“Poppy? Honey, I thought…I’m so sorry you had to get dragged into something like this. I never in my life expected to see something so horrible in my own house. I don’t know what happened. Poppy—”
“Are you okay?” She cut him off.
“I’d be more fine if you were with me. I’m goin’ home now. I’ll send a car for you?”
She stood outside the black railings that surrounded the forecourt at the police precinct. The afternoon had turned gray, as gray as she felt. “You don’t need to do that,” she said, trying to think what to do next. A breeze turned into a sudden hard gust and flattened her T-shirt to her back. She didn’t feel sure what she wanted anymore.
“I’m going to have dinner brought in,” Ward said. “You feel like lobster? I could eat…you don’t want to know what I could eat. I don’t do old coffee and stale donuts. That’s what the cops live on down there.”
“Ward, are you allowed back in your house, yet?”
He took a moment, then said, “If I want into my house, I get into my house. Seriously, oh, hell, this is god-awful. No, I can’t go back there. I’m not thinking straight. I want you with me. It’s important.”
It’s important?
Poppy wasn’t sure she understood what that meant. Maybe she didn’t want to.
A heavy hand on her shoulder almost buckled her knees with shock. She looked up at Sykes whose black, curly hair blew away from his intense face. He stared at her as if he saw into her mind. She felt hot at the thought that he probably could.
“Where are you going?” Poppy asked Ward when she got her breath back.
“Sheesh. There’s a carriage house next to the big house on St. Louis. I’ll go there. It’s mostly for guests but very comfortable.”
He hadn’t mentioned Sonia by name. That didn’t feel right to Poppy.
What did she know about the shock of waking up to a dead body in your house? “I’ll come and find you.”
“Let me send a car.”
“No, Ward, I—”
“Dammit, Poppy, don’t be difficult. This has been a rotten day and I could use some TLC.”
She felt unsure of herself, of what she wanted, or ought to want. “Of course you could.” Poppy looked at Sykes and knew, without his saying a word, that he was aware of every word she had exchanged with Ward. “Go and get settled,” she said.
“Just get over here, darling.”
She had to say it. “Poor Sonia. She had a lot of talent—”
“And round heels,” Ward said shortly. “She played around too much and it caught up with her.”
Poppy held her breath. Ward was shocked, and shocked people didn’t react normally. “I’m sorry it happened to her,” she said.
“Would you just get yourself here?”
“As soon as I can. I’ve got some things to get through.” She hung up and looked everywhere but at Sykes. But she felt him as if he had wrapped her up with him inside his clothes, next to his skin, in some kind of incredibly sexy cocoon. Or should that be, restraint?
Her face tingled. So did most of the rest of her.
“Poppy,” he said. “I’ve got to be friend and brother to you. I’ve got to stand in for Ben.”
“I’ve got plenty of brothers.” She raised her chin. “I don’t have so many friends—apart from Marley and she’s a rock.”
“Sounds as if you could have a new soul mate in Nat’s Wazoo,” Sykes said with a one-sided smile. “I think our detective is trying to lure his woman to New Orleans, what do you think?”
“I think you’re insightful,” she said. “He loves her—a lot.”
They stared into each other’s eyes. Poppy tightened her spine, her legs. Awareness rippled through her muscles. She couldn’t look away. While she watched him the angles of his face became more exaggerated, his upswept brows seemed darker, his eyes flared like blue gas flame and his cheekbones shone white and stark.
Sykes’s complete absorption in her overpowered Poppy. He took a single step closer until his face was all she saw. The rest of him, his shoulders and arms, the way he tensed his core and held his belly tight, were a physical reality she felt.
She didn’t move.
Sykes did.
He stroked the side of her face with the backs of his fingers so slowly time must surely have stopped, and he brought his mouth down on hers. She saw his eyes close the instant before she shut her own.
Poppy sucked in her tummy against the shock that traveled the length of her.
They didn’t embrace.
Sykes moved them with their mouths, reached deep inside, nibbled her lips, ran his tongue along the soft skin just inside and over the sharp edges of her teeth.
Breathing got more difficult. She pressed her cheek into his hand and started to urge herself against him. Still her hands hung at her sides but she stood on tiptoe
and kissed him as if the kiss had waited for years just for this moment.
I think it has.
She heard Sykes speak in her mind.
Her eyes shot open. His lashes moved, thick and dark against his skin. He looked…in pain.
Poppy stepped back.
“Will you promise me something?” Sykes asked.
She couldn’t speak.
“Don’t go to Ward Bienville. Not now. Not until we know what happened to the woman who died at his place last night.”
She felt her eyes fill with tears. “Is that why you kissed me, to make me do what you want?”
“Is that really what you think?” He watched her mouth.
“I don’t know.”
“Could you try believing I kissed you because I wanted to? I’ve wanted to for a long time.”
“I thought you hated me,” Poppy said.
“I don’t. I didn’t like what you did to Ben and Willow but I understood it—in a way.”
“I loathed myself. Still do. But I’ll get over it. You can’t tell me what to do, Sykes. Just because you’re the lord high witchery-do, or whatever.”
He laughed, transforming his expression into boyish delight. “I think I might not mind being
your
lord high witchery-do. Only I’m not a witch, or a warlock, and neither are you.”
“I wasn’t being funny.” She spread her fingers.
“You’re just so much more of everything than any of the rest of us—except Ben, perhaps, or even Liam or Ethan. You overwhelm everyone, Sykes.
“But we are all pretty special. People gossip about us. It’s all very woo-woo but not real to them. But it’s real to us, isn’t it?”
“It’s real, period.” He brushed back her hair. His eyes traveled from her mouth to her breasts. “We are so real,” he said. “I think we’re soon going to have to prove just how real we are—in addition to having the kind of talents that must never be wasted. I want you to work with me, Poppy. No trying to take on a world you don’t know on your own.”
“Are you telling me you’re taking my idea about cracking our Embran problem seriously? By seeking them out instead of waiting for them to come for us.”
“Maybe. I think you’re serious about wanting to take this on, Poppy. But I hope it isn’t only because you’re trying to make amends for something that’s over.”
“What is this? Are you reading my mind or something?” He just had or so it seemed but that could have been a fluke.
He laughed. “Would that surprise you? Which brings me to something else I want to talk to you about. Telepathy. The real thing, not skirting around the edges. Learning the rules, knowing when to put the block in place—and when to be wide open. Who to be open with.”
“I don’t believe you can learn any of that. Either you have it or you don’t.”
He inclined his head. “You communicated with me at the club. You told me Wazoo is psychic.”
“You heard?” Goose bumps blanketed her arms. “You’re serious. Of course you did. How else would you know?”
His grin made her smile back. “It could be that you’ve found a sympathetic channel.”
She frowned.
“Me. It wouldn’t be surprising if we had a special attachment, would it?” He lifted her left hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across the backs of her fingers.
Transfixed by the tingling rush under her skin, she stared at him, left her hand in his until she noticed it was there and pulled it back.
This was coming at her too fast. “I should check in on Ward. I owe him that much.”
Sykes held her chin until she raised her eyes to his. “You don’t owe him anything. But I think you’re on to something about the kind of circles the Embran are attracted to. And Ward has them. But that’s just one shot in the dark, Poppy. We don’t know where they’ll show up next. Or if they will at all. They’ve been quiet for months now.”
“I want to make sure they stay that way,” she said, wishing she felt as determined as she sounded. “I’m not backing off.”
“Stay away from Ward. At least until you know he’s not a murderer. Please, Poppy.”
She turned icy. “I don’t frighten easily, remember. I’m one of the superpeople.”
“There are a few of us,” he said. “And if we aren’t nervous it isn’t healthy. I don’t mean scared out of our heads—just really, really careful. We need to know when to rely on each other.”
“I’m going to be careful.” She smiled at him, hoping he couldn’t see she was tearing up again at the same time. “Thanks for caring but I’d better get going.”
He stood very straight, so tall she had to look way up at him. “All right. Go. But make sure your buddy finds out Nat Archer knows where you are—and so do I. What are you going to do if he gets friendly?”
She blushed. “He won’t. He’s a gentleman.”
“I’ll be in my studio,” Sykes said. “You can get me on my cell. Do you think you could commit to doing that—calling me?”
She couldn’t trust this change in Sykes.
“Please?”
“We’ll talk,” she said, and started looking for a cab.
Sykes stood where he was, watching her. He took out his phone and talked for a short while.
She stepped into the street and looked for a ride.
“Poppy,” Sykes called. “Just a minute.”
He came to her side and guided her back onto the sidewalk. “That was Nat. He’s hoping you spend some
time with Wazoo. Evidently he’s having trouble persuading her not to go right back to Toussaint.”
“She didn’t give any hint of that,” Poppy said at once.
“People change their minds fast sometimes.”
“Do they?” Watching his face, the absolute attention he gave her, quieted her. “Can we ever stop people from doing what they want to do?”
“Sometimes,” he said. He put his fingertips to her temple and rubbed lightly. “When the world feels quiet just because you’re with someone who means a lot to you. Think about it, Poppy. All the confusion and the fear can slip away when you feel safe, and calm.”
She nodded, unable to look away. The sensation of his touch at her temple lulled her.
“We all need those times to find some perspective. Quiet time to think. Quiet time with someone we trust.”
Poppy sighed. She felt so tired.
His arm slipped around her shoulders and she rested her head against his shoulder. She heard him talking softly but it didn’t matter what he said anymore. She just wanted to be with him.
M
arley came out of the bedroom in her flat.
The look she gave Sykes made him more uncomfortable than he already was.
She closed the door quietly behind her and pointed to the sitting room.
Without a sound, he did as he was instructed and got another accusing stare, this one from Winnie, who lay on the couch with her head on a fat cushion and her disgusting plastic bone just in front of her nose. The dog’s shiny black eyes skewered Sykes, or so it felt.
Marley came in behind him and closed that door, too. “We don’t need to pretend with each other,” she said. “We both know. Are you supposed to use that, ever?”
“There wouldn’t be much point in having it if I never used it—if the need arose.”
“Except for situations of life or death, I meant,” Marley said. “Are you going to bring her out of it right now? What will you tell her?”
“Please, can Poppy rest here?” Sykes said, drawing
himself up straight—unnecessary since he had about a foot on Marley. “This is a matter of life or death. Or it may be. Trust me.”
“The two most dangerous words in the language,” Marley said, her beautiful green eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“Have you met Nat’s Wazoo.” Boy, he was desperate.
“Yes.”
“I think she’d be glad to come over and sit with you. She needs friends really badly. Nat’s trying to persuade her to move to New Orleans from Toussaint.”
“Can’t you ever be appropriate?” Marley said. “I like Wazoo and I’ll see what I can do to make her feel at home here. But will you deal with this disaster you’ve just dropped on me.”
“You’re exaggerating. Look, Marley, Poppy was going to Ward Bienville’s place. On her own. She wouldn’t listen to me.”
Marley raised her eyebrows. “The man who is running for the senate?”
“Thinking about it. A woman was murdered at his place last night. He’s been downtown being questioned all day. And Poppy thought she ought to go and hold his hand.”
He saw Marley swallow. “They think Ward killed this woman.”
“I don’t know what they think, but I’m not taking chances with Poppy.”
Her eyebrows climbed higher.
Sykes puffed up his cheeks. “Look at you jumping to conclusions. You always make so much out of nothing. Ben’s my friend. Poppy’s his sister. I feel responsible.”
“How about letting Liam and Ethan be responsible for her?”
He crossed his arms. “They weren’t there when I needed them.”
“So you put Poppy into a trance. Useful little trick when a man wants a woman to do his bidding.”
“I would never use my skills irresponsibly,” he exploded.
“Of course not. It’s a good thing you’re here, by the way. Uncle Pascal is on a tear.”
“What else is new.”
“Sykes, there’s something up and I think it’s really big. I should have said he’s on a subdued tear. He looks awful. Really tense. Anthony’s worried out of his mind.”
Anthony was Pascal’s trainer. “And the famous green concoction isn’t working to calm him down?” Whenever Pascal got excited, Anthony produced a cure-all concoction of some green “health” drink.
“Take something seriously, will you.”
He rounded on his sister. “You’ll never know how seriously I’m taking a bunch of things right now. I’m sorry.” Her small frame, overwhelmed by her almost six-month pregnant belly reminded him he was being inappropriate. “Pascal’s looking for me right now?”
“Yes. Then he said he’ll want to see Gray and me.”
“Okay, I’m on my way over there.”
“Sykes, Nick Montrachet was by again.”
“Yeah? He’s a pretty rare visitor.”
“I like him,” Marley said. The Montrachets were a low-profile paranormal family. “Do you know anything about a pact the families made? Probably several generations ago?”
Nick was a potter of repute. Sykes admired his work. “I remember him saying something about it,” he said.
“Nick knows something about a pact. He says his grandfather mentioned it but he won’t say anything now. But Nick wants to know what you know.” She paused. “So do I.”
“Sounds like Nick’s problem to me. But I’ll talk to him when I can, okay?”
She smiled at him, and he felt a little better. “I’ll get over to Pascal.” He opened the door but turned back. “You and Gray are coming over to join us? I don’t want Poppy on her own.”
“You could fix that.”
“I can’t just bring her out of the trance until I can try to explain what I did and why.”
Marley smirked. “She’s going to rip you into little strips.” Her expression softened. “I’ll see if I can call Nat’s Wazoo to keep watch. She’s not a woman who finds anything strange as far as I can tell. If I can get her here, I will.”
“You’re sure that’s a good idea?”
“You haven’t sensed anything about Wazoo?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Poor Nat. I hope he isn’t in over his head.”